Effigy
by Hannibal the Animal
Summary: Charlie didn't leave after he died...
1. Chapter One

**CHAPTER TITLE: **_Chapter One_

**CHARACTERS:**_ Charlie Francis, The Shapeshifter_

**GENRE:** _Tragedy, Supernatural_

**RATING:** _M_

**SUMMARY:**_ Charlie didn't leave after he died..._

**REQUESTED BY: **_slgorman, good friend and fellow Charlie Francis obsessor (she can be found on livejournal)_

**WORD COUNT: **_418_

**WARNINGS: **_Character death_

**SPOILERS: **_Season Two_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_Oh, this is going to be a good plot bunny! I can feel it!_

**DISCLAIMER:** _Obvious this isn't mine._

* * *

It had been dizzying at first. He'd been confused at what exactly was happening and if felt as if he were in a vacuum where sound couldn't quite meet his ears, though oddly enough he could feel the sound waves rippling his body like a stone skipping across water. And his vision was extremely clouded, like trying to see through a fogged up window. He knew something was wrong and he tried screaming out, but either he couldn't make noise or he couldn't hear it. Either way it was terrifying and paired with the fact he couldn't feel his body was sending him into a panic.

When sound and vision finally cleared, he found himself in on of the dark corners of the hospital basement's ceiling. It took him a moment to realise where he was and then came the mystery of what he was doing all the way up here. Had he been tied up? He could picture a giant spider spinning a web and cocooning him here, which wasn't too hard to believe considering only a few months ago he had squirmy worms growing side of him.

He called out for help a few times but no one came.

'_Liv has to know I'm missing. We're partners, she can sense these kind of things,'_ he thought hysterically. _'Partners always know these kind of things.'_

But it wasn't until much later when someone finally came and when he saw who it was, he couldn't have been more shocked.

'_Me? But I'm up here—the Shapeshifter!'_

He watched, still unable to move as the Shapeshifter who looked identical to him pulled a heavy metal cart filled with laundry or something over to the hospital basement's incinerator and Charlie wondered if the Shapeshifter had put him up here on the ceiling. But then again, it appeared as though Shapeshifter had no idea he was up here—

The Shapeshifter opened the incinerator's door and rummaged through the cart to pull out a body—his body!—and lifted him out, carrying him over to the giant furnace.

'_What are you doing? What are you doing?!' _Charlie screamed, watching in horror.

The Shapeshifter threw him into the flames and Charlie cried out, though the Shapeshifter didn't seem to hear him. How could he be down there when he was up here? How could he—

The grim realisation of what was quickly becoming a nightmare made Charlie let out a wail that he was sure no one heard.

He was dead and no one knew it.


	2. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER TITLE:** _An Ode to Sonia_

**CHARACTERS:**_ Charlie Francis, The Shapeshifter, Sonia Francis_

**GENRE:** _Tragedy, Supernatural_

**RATING:** _M_

**SUMMARY: **_ Charlie didn't leave after he died..._

******REQUESTED BY:** _slgorman, good friend and fellow Charlie Francis obsessor (she can be found on livejournal)_

**WORD COUNT:**_ 1,701_

**WARNINGS: **

**SPOILERS: **_Season Two_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**DISCLAIMER:** _Obvious this isn't mine._

* * *

Sonia…whom Charlie often believed was a real life princess, spent every morning in the shower the same way. She sang out exquisite hymns and as he hovered in the wafts of steam next to her, he recalled the days they'd been in university and he'd first heard her singing with the campus choir. Like an angel, her voice had managed to call to him, her sweet mouth speaking the words of the Father in Latin and French and German…

But those days were long since gone. Her hymns had still called to him, though this time they'd acted as a beacon home where that sonofabitch Shapeshifter was waiting, taking his place. He couldn't feel time, like it didn't exist around him anymore, but he did understand that he'd been down in that hospital basement for a quite a few hours, that it was now the next day. He'd been there in a matter of minutes, slipping through the glass of the shower door to be beside his wife.

His fingers caressed over her face, wishing to feel her warmth, but there was nothing there, just a sense of the molecules being different because she was living and he was not. Sonia was the best way to wake up in the morning, curled up soft and warm in his arms, smelling like shampoo and lotion. He'd never taken that for granted but it didn't make it any easier to part with.

Her wet, soapy hands touched her belly, her eyes closing in a moment of bliss and he moved closer to her, the feeling of despair overwhelming him. They'd found out she was pregnant the day after he'd had all that larvae growing in him, the day after he'd told his partner that their was a certain irony to the fact he and Sonia had been talking about having kids. When his beloved wife told him she was going t be having their child, he hadn't been able to stop laughing from the relief that she would be the one receiving sonograms now instead of him.

They'd remained quiet with the news, waiting the first three months because Sonia was superstitious, even though he was so excited he wanted to rent billboards to broadcast their good fortune. Actually he'd planned on telling Olivia, but the day he picked turned out being the same one that she ended up in that bizarre car accident and it didn't seem appropriate to announce his good news with her lying in a hospital bed. So he'd decided to wait a few days, not realising he didn't have that kind of time…

* * *

Charlie could pinpoint the moment he knew Sonia was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. During their time in university together he'd had her trim his hair in her flat's tiny kitchen; when he found out that she'd worked at her uncle's barbershop all through high school, he'd convinced her that he had a phobia of noise electric trimmers made and asked if she would trim his hair for him with scissors. She'd agreed, but only if he was willing to take her with him to the gun range and teach her how to shoot. He'd only been too happy to say yes.

Of course it took forever for her cut his hair by hand and he did feel guilty about it; for almost a year and a half she'd devote the last Saturday of every month carefully trimming his black hair with her beautician shears. Finally one day as she had him leaning backwards at the kitchen sink so she could rinse the shampoo out of his hair, the compunction overwhelmed him and the moment her fingers started massaging his scalp, he blurted out,

"_Sonia? I'm not really scared of the sound the trimmers makes. I just wanted to be close to you."_

She hadn't paused and for the briefest of moments he thought that perhaps she hadn't heard or maybe he hadn't really said it out loud, but then she replied softly,

"_I know."_

He'd nervously looked up into her eyes. _"You do?"_

She smiled slightly._ "I've always known, Charlie."_

He spent the rest of the time in her kitchen feeling incredibly warm and happy, in love with the way her hands took care of him. As he left her flat, she called out.

"_Charlie?"_

He turned back to her. _"Yes?"_

Her shy smile became a Cheshire grin. _"I was the captain of the high school sharp shooting team. I just wanted to be close to you. "_

He'd bought her engagement ring that afternoon.

* * *

Charlie loved the way Sonia's hands smelt of garlic on the days she cooked pot roasts. He loved the way she would call him up as he drove home to tell him she wasn't wearing anything beneath her dress. He loved the way she muttered in her sleep about dry cleaning. He loved the way she got excited about turning over the calendar on the first day of each month. He loved the way she'd rub her excess lotion on his elbows to 'soften him up'. He loved the way she bit her bottom lip as she worked on the crossword puzzle at breakfast.

He loved the way Sonia was Sonia.

As he watched his wife step out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her waist as she hummed and dried her hair with a hand towel, the Shapeshifter entered their bedroom from the hallway. Sonia paused as her eyes locked on the man that wasn't really him and he paused as well, as though they were two strangers who had happened across one another, but then she smiled and they continued their movement around the bedroom.

Charlie's form felt like a million different points of light and angrily they buzzed and swarmed like hornets around the room, desperate to get rid of this disgusting imposter and wanting to protect the love of his life.

"Babe, you're up pretty early," Sonia commented. "Everything okay?"

"Everything's perfect, angel," the Shapeshifter purred, possessively running his hands over her bare shoulders.

Sonia made a noise of discomfort and both Charlies looked at her.

"Morning sickness," she mumbled before running back to the bathroom.

The Shapeshifter watched coolly as the sounds of his wife retching into the toilet reached them. Charlie felt absolute relief as he watched the creature turn and leave the bedroom, though he was torn between following it or staying with his wife. He ended up staying with Sonia.

By the time she'd rinsed her mouth out and put a bathrobe on, the Shapeshifter was hanging out in the kitchen, looking antsy to go. Charlie was more than happy to see that _thing_ leave his home.

"Well, I should probably get going," the Shapeshifter said, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter.

"Of course." Sonia grinned at him as she handed him his travel mug, already filled with coffee. "Go save the world babe."

The Shapeshifter smiled at her and began to walk out the door before Sonia's suddenly cool voice stopped him.

"Honey?"

The Shapeshifter froze and looked back at her. "Yes?"

His wife was no longer smiling. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

The Shapeshifter returned to her and kissed her passionately on the lips before hurrying back out the door. Charlie surrounded the area Sonia stood, watching her face and body language, feeling triumphant. She knew. She suspected.

The Shapeshifter had been right to assume they always gave each other one last kiss before they parted, but what he hadn't known was that Charlie always linked his pinkie with hers, their private way of saying 'I love you'. And he hadn't done it.

Sonia watched his car pull away, her lips pressed tight as the gears in her head turned quickly. His wife wasn't stupid, she knew something was wrong. But she also knew better than to ask questions, which unfortunately wasn't helping him at the moment.

The night he'd had the larvae growing in him, she'd seen the way the his skin moved and undulated on his abdomen, the horrified look on her face making his heart nearly stop. But she hadn't said anything—she'd just adverted her eyes and started talking to him about renewing their Netflix subscription. It was something about her that he admired, but now her loyalty and trust was putting her in danger.

But Sonia didn't have all the facts and Charlie ended up watching helplessly as she ran from the kitchen towards their downstairs bathroom—Sonia would suffer the rest of her pregnancy with terrible morning sickness.


	3. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER TITLE:** _Offerings of_ _Salvia_

**CHARACTERS:**_ Charlie Francis, Astrid Farnsworth, Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop_

**GENRE:** _Tragedy, Supernatural_

**RATING:** _M_

**CHALLENGE**_**:**__With Walter, who he hopes has a moment clarity through the insanity, and can figure it out. Wackiness ensues._

**WORD COUNT:** _1229_

**WARNINGS:** _Drug use_

**DISCLAIMER:** _Obvious this isn't mine._

* * *

Astrid, Charlie discovered, spent her mornings praying at an ashram, chanting in Latin while she let the thick smoke of incense cover her; he'd never noticed the intensity of the spicy smell until now. He wondered what else he'd missed while he was alive. While one of his strengths had always been his attention to detail—the way he'd noticed how Olivia held herself around John Scott, the way a suspect breathed when they were getting close to confessing, the way a room looked when someone had come in and tried to covertly search it.

But since he had died, Charlie had become far more aware of what life around him consisted of. Certain voices seemed to have an aura to them, such as his wife's and now Astrid's. Smoke and anything burning was intoxicating, an element he'd never experienced before. The odor of things decomposing seemed entirely three dimensional—Charlie made the mental note that once he figured out how to communicate with others he would recommend that Olivia dig up the body he could smell in the back lot by the coffee shop he'd passed on his way to find Astrid.

As Charlie hovered next to her, trying to catch her attention by swirling in and out of the smoke, her cellphone began hysterical beeping and she sighed, opening her eyes. It was text message and they both read it out loud.

'need u lab have 2 do smthing, cant bring W'

It was from Peter and Charlie watched as she gave a fond smile as she texted back, 'on my way'.

Her skin prickled and he watched the hair stand up on he back of her neck as he attached himself to her, clinging to her curly locks as she left the ashram to her car. The car ride over to Harvard was somewhat terrifying, the ever-present fear of losing all contact with that he knew and the way every molecule shook from the momentum of the vehicle moving faster than he'd experienced so far as the dead.

At the laboratory, Peter hardly gave her a _'hello'_ before rushing off, leaving a somewhat distraught looking Walter behind with Astrid. Charlie wondered for a moment what could be so important, then realised it could only be Olivia, the center of it all. Charlie had to give credit to Astrid for the amount of patience had with the Bishop men—he knew that he wouldn't be happy to have the older, odd scientist left with him.

For a few hours there was nothing he could do but listen in on their quiet talking, listening to the lamenting of Walter as they talked about the blonde agent and the situation with the Shapeshifter. Charlie tried to trace out his presence on the glass of their cabinets or possibly arrange some scattered pencils into a message, but there was no luck—he was mute in their world, silent and unseen. He watched with some surprise at one point as Astrid and Walter stood unusually close and with further observation he noticed their hands were brushing against one another's, quite clandestine under the lab table. For comfort or more, he couldn't quite say.

The lab door opened and the two sidestepped to put difference between themselves as Peter came in. "I'm back!"

"Oh Peter! How is she?" Walter asked, his face lined with concern.

"She's doing better. And she liked the flowers," the wayward son said cheerfully.

"I told him yellow flowers make the room look happiest," Walter said smugly to the young woman at his side.

Astrid smiled and when her stomach growled loudly, she gave an embarrassed laugh. "Could you guys excuse me for a moment? I'll be right back."

Peter grinned at her as she grabbed her wallet out of her handbag, obviously off to the cafeteria. "No problem."

"I'll miss you!" Walter called out.

Peter began shuffling through desk drawers and dufflebags, muttering under his breath.

"Damnit…I left the wires in the Vista Cruiser." Peter went back to the door and gave his father a stern look. "Walter, I'm going to go get them so I'll be gone for a few minutes. _Behave_."

Walter waved him away, then folded his hands in his lap as his son left.

"I'm behaving!" Walter sang to the empty lab, then hopped off the stool.

"I think, Walter," the older man said to himself cheerfully, "that's you've been a very good boy…and you deserve a treat!"

He began rummaging through a cabinet and pulled out a bag of something green, which he quickly rolled into a cigarette paper. Charlie watched Walter light up the salvia, humming _"Chattanooga Choo-Choo"_ as he prepared to inhale.

The sharp scent of salvia was earthy and strange, but not entirely unpleasant, and Charlie drifted through the oily-feeling smoke. He was beginning to see that burning things in his presence was something comforting and he wondered momentarily if this was why people had been setting fire to their offerings for thousands of years.

'_Broyles would not be happy if he knew you were getting high during work—' _Charlie commented dryly.

"Who was that? Peter?" Walter said, his eyes wide as he looked around the room.

'_Walter! Walter! Thank God you can hear me! You have to warn the others! He's not really—'_

"I know you're there. I can feel you," Walter called out again before taking another puff.

'_I'm right here!' _Charlie shouted, frustrated.

"Stay away from Gene! Ghosts sour the milk!" the elder Bishop warned, fanning the lab with yesterday's newspaper, eyes darting frantically before he found his blunt once more.

This last inhalation of the drug seemed to do the trick as Walter's pupils completely dilated and focused on Charlie.

Dr Bishop smiled and his body language seemed to relax. "Oh, Agent Francis! What are you doing here?"

'_The shapeshifter!' _Charlie said as he floated over.

The scientist's hands let go of the newspaper, the pages separating and floating to the concrete floor. "You know who it is?"

'_It's me!'_

Walter gave a long drag and Charlie could see the warmth of the smoke filing his lungs. "Agent Francis, if you're still having trouble with your rest, I'm sure I can wrangle up something that you can use to help with that—"

'_Walter, the shapeshifter killed me—'_

Unfortunately, Peter had returned. "Walter, who are you talking to?"

"Agent Francis!" Walter snapped.

"On the phone?"

Walter waved his hands in Charlie's direction. "No, he's right here."

Peter's eyes narrowed on the small, hand rolled blunt in his father's hand. "Walter, what have you been smoking? Is that salvia?"

"Nothing! No!"

"Give it here," his son ordered.

"Damn." Walter turned to look at Charlie. "He never lets me have any fun."

"That's because you're seeing things, isn't that right, Agent Francis?" Peter said, winking at him.

Charlie stilled himself._ 'Peter—can you see me?'_

"No, he can't see you. I'm _high_," Walter said bitterly and Peter rolled his eyes as he put his arm over his father's shoulder.

"C'mon," he said as he began to lead the older man towards the laboratory's doors, "let's go find Astrid. She always knows how to sober you up."

'_Walter, you have to get help—' _Charlie pleaded as he stayed near the smoke of the still smoldering blunt.

Walter gave him a sad smile before Peter dragged him out the door. "I'm sorry."


End file.
